


Adrift

by PaperDragons



Category: Newsies (1992), Princess Bride - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mermaids, Pirates!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperDragons/pseuds/PaperDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's father Pierre inherited the role of the Dread Pirate Roberts from famed swordsman Inigo Montoya.  When Ryan comes of age, he will inherit it from his father.  </p><p>His earliest important memory was standing on the poop deck of the Revenge next to his father.  He was nine years old, brown as a nut and still tow-headed.  He clung to his father's large hand, and gazed up at him, his blue eyes wide and awestruck.  His father, Pierre, meanwhile, stared out at the horizon, his face stern.  He remembered the taste of salt on his lips and the heat of the wood beneath his toes.  He remembered that he had had a splinter in the ball of his left foot, and he'd been standing on one leg because it hurt a lot.  But he couldn't tell his father about the splinter because it was a splinter and his dad was a pirate and pirates didn't get splinters that hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adrift

_______

His earliest memory was standing on the poop deck of the Revenge next to his father. He was nine years old, brown as a nut and still tow-headed as he clung to his father's large hand and gazed up at him, his blue eyes wide and awestruck. Pierre, his father, just stared out at the horizon, his face stern.  
He remembered the taste of salt on his lips and the heat of the wood beneath his toes. There was a splinter in the ball of his left foot, and he'd been standing on one leg because it hurt, but he couldn't tell his father about it because his dad was a pirate and pirates didn't let splinters bother them. He'd continued fidgeting until his father knelt down to look him in the eye.  
"Ryan," Pierre smiled, crow's feet deepening as he did. "I'm going to tell you something very important and you have to promise me that you'll keep it a secret."  
"Even from Kloppman?" Ryan asked, referring to the wizened old man who ran the kitchen and medical section. He was fond of the old man because he made good cakes for his birthday.  
"No," his father said sternly. "Not even Kloppman. Now, can you keep a secret little boy?"  
"I'm near ten, Daddy. Of course I can keep a secret!" He said, before scowling and adding, "and I ain't little."  
"'I'm not little.'" Pierre corrected automatically. "If there's anything your Mamma-"  
"God rest her soul," Ryan added promptly, and his father nodded his head.  
"If there's anything your Mamma taught me, it's that grammar is important. A man is judged on the way he speaks. Remember that. Now," he sighed, "What I'm going to tell you is very important, and it's time you knew about what profession you're destined for. I am not the real Dread Pirate Roberts." Ryan remembered backing away slightly, knowing that he should know what this meant, but he didn't understand.  
"I inherited the role from Inigo Montoya. Remember, him? He sailed with us until you turned five. He taught you fencing before you could walk..." Pierre trailed off, then shook his head and continued. "The role is passed down. Inherited. And you, my son, will inherit it from me."  
Ryan nodded at that, distracted by the parrot making a fuss on the lower deck. Pierre lifted his hands from his son's shoulders, signifying an end to the conversation.  
"Do you have any questions?" he asked, looking down at his son, who was staring with delight at the parrot.  
"Nope." Ryan said, turning back to his father as the bird was quieted. "No sir." he amended, looking upwards into Pierre's face.  
"Good." Pierre said, placing his hand on Ryan's shoulder and guiding him off across the deck.  
"Now let's go see if Kloppman can do anything about that splinter."

\---

Ryan decided his life fully started when he turned fifteen. Or at least, that's when his life took a turn for the worst. He didn't notice immediately, but when he looked back, he could see how screwed up everything had gotten over the course of a couple months.  
Ryan had done little in the five years since he'd learned about the Dread Pirate title, but he'd learned to fight. He'd spent his eleventh to thirteenth year on shore near Guilder, learning with Inigo and Westly. He'd gotten quite good, and once had nearly beaten the Spaniard in an impromptu sparring match.  
The comforting weight of his blade in his hand, the whistle of steel though the air, the leather wound around the handle pressing into his callused palm became as familiar to him as breathing. 

When he at last returned to the decks of the Revenge, he found that the crew had greatly shifted. Kloppman had lost his leg to a hungry shark, and now hobbled about using a crutch.  
In June, the month before he'd come back, Pierre had taken on a new deck hand when they docked off the coast of Florin, a man who called himself Snyder and his two sons, Oscar and Morris. Snyder was warm and friendly towards the Revenge's crew, but Ryan was disturbed by the fact that his smile never quite reached his eyes. His eyes were hard and cruel, and his laugh was more like a bark, like that of a dog.  
Oscar and Morris were a couple of years older than Ryan, and they seemed constantly pissed at him. Morris had a scrappy mustache, he noticed, like a child playing at being a man. As the only children on the ship, they were expected to get along. Ryan knew that would never come to pass between himself and Morris, when the other boy dropped his favorite dagger over the side into the sea. It took all of Ryan's willpower to not make Morris' face black and blue.  
Oscar, on the other hand, was easier to get along with. He could take a joke and thought Morris' pre-pubescent mustache was as stupid as Ryan did. Oscar taught Ryan boxing and a bit of illicit gambling that Pierre would never allow on his ship.  
Still, he was never the nicest, but he was the closest thing Ryan had to a friend, and for the time being, that was enough.

 

\---

It all started in August on the eve of Ryan's sixteenth birthday. Oscar and Morris came into his cabin and dragged him from his bunk up onto the empty deck. It was midnight, the moon hung full and low over the gunnels, and a fog so thick it could only come from Davy Jones himself, rose up out of the waves and swallowed the stars.  
Oscar stood next to Ryan, a lantern held aloft so Morris could see as he cut the ties that bound one of the lifeboats to the deck.  
"What the hell are we doing?" Ryan demanded, and Oscar grinned.  
"It's midnight Ryan- midsummer. We're goin' huntin'."  
"Hunting? Hunting for what?" he scowled, but whatever tale Oscar was about to spin was cut off by the lifeboat hitting the water. He flinched at the smack of wood on water. Someone was going to have heard that, they were as good as caught now. And yet, nothing moved.  
He frowned. "Hey, where's Mr Weasel? Isn't he on night watch?"  
"Naw Ryan." Oscar smirked, "Mr Weisel has been given a pint 'a ale and a book of pin-up gals. We won' be seein' 'im 'round here for a while yet. We's got all night."  
"Yeah. Okay. What the hell are we hunting for?"  
"Language, Ry. Daddy wouldn't care to hear you runnin' your pretty mouth like that." Oscar snickered.  
"Right" Morris' grunt interrupted, his arms straining to hold the lifeboat's tether as it rocked in the waves, "Oscar, ya got th' fuckin' ladder right?" he growled, and Oscar stepped over to the gunnels and rolled a rope ladder down the side of the ship.  
"Time to climb Ryry." Oscar smiled, and nudged Ryan towards the side. 

\---

The three boys sat still in the ship as Morris rowed them away from the friendly light of the Revenge. On the water, the fog was almost suffocating. The light of the moon seemed to only get brighter, and the small beam from their lantern seemed weak and soft, barely cutting through the air.  
Around their feet lay a tangle of nets, ropes along with bayonets, knives and Ryan's cutlasses.  
He turned to Oscar, and put on his threatening expression- the one his father used when he wanted information.  
"Are you going to tell me what we're doing out here at any time Oz?" he cringed as the use of the familiar name ruined the treating nature of the question.  
" We're hunting mermaids, Ryan."  
"Wait. What? Mermaids? Oscar, those haven't been seen in-" he was cut off by something hitting the side of the boat. He yelped, grabbing the gunnels as the small craft rocked back and fourth. Morris leaned forwards and grabbed a harpoon from the floor and peered over the edge into the dark water mere feet below his face.  
"Come on out little fish" he sang softly, Oscar and Ryan sitting silent and staring. There was dead silence for a moment and then a pair of pale arms shot up out of the waves and long fingers wrapped around Morris' head and neck, dragging him over the side and out of sight before either Ryan or Oscar could blink.  
"Morris!" Oscar yelled, lunging towards the writhing under the surface. It resembled boiling water, there was so much movement as Morris battled with the mermaid. Ryan did the only thing he could think of, grabbing his cutlass and leaping over the side, leaving Oscar alone in the boat.  
The water was dark and churning around them. He attempted to open his eyes, but it was pitch black and stinging, so he relied on touch. He grabbed towards the movement in front of him and caught fabric, but as suddenly as his fingers met it, it was wrenched away. He kicked forwards, his lungs screaming, and grabbed again. This time his fingers wrapped around something hard and scaly, like a fish, but without the slime. He swung his cutlass forward and could feel it connect with something else before he pushed it into what he figured was the mermaid's tail. An inhuman sound reached his ears, cutting into his brain like a needle.  
Reaching around, he grabbed what was hopefully Morris' arm and kicked towards the surface.  
It was Morris’ arm he’d grabbed, and he shoved him towards the boat, both of them gasping and retching.  
“Go! Move it! Oscar, help him!” Ryan hollered as he struggled to keep them both afloat. Oscar leaned forwards and grabbed the back of Morris’ shirt, hauling him over the gunnel. Ryan reached up, his fingers gripping the wood for a moment before he felt something run across the back of his neck. He twisted to find himself face to face with a creature. Time seemed to stop as he stared at it. It was slender and long with large eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the half light. It’s lips were pulled back in a sneer and it’s teeth were sharply pointed. It had line of scales across its jaw bones, where a human man would have hair. It was beautiful, he realized, as its hand shot forwards and its thumb gouged into his left eye socket. There was a popping feeling and a pain like he’d never known.  
The creature leaned towards him and put its mouth against his ear.  
“I know your blood Ryan. You are my prey. This hunt I will enjoy.” it whispered, its voice low and hard. Then it grabbed Ryan and lifted him into the boat before sinking back down into the water.  
"Oh god!" Ryan screamed, clutching at the place where his eye had been, staring in horror at the small stream of blood running down his forearm. "Oh shit oh fuck! Oscar! What did it do?" He gagged and pivoted to vomit over the side.  
Oscar was sobbing, and grabbing at Morris who was lying on the floor, coughing, covered in cuts and his own vomit.  
“Oh shit. Ryan, I’m so sorry. It was supposed to be fun. We were gonna kill the mermaid for your birthday. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. I mean, you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be bad! I- oh god! Oh god!” Oscar was screaming, his voice carrying over the water.  
“We’ll talk about this later.” Ryan spat, pulling himself up. “Now shut your mouth and help me get us back to the ship. Your brother’s hurt and if you don’t get off your ass and start helpin’ me, you’re gonna be hurt too.” He hesitantly removed his hand from his eye, and attempted to blink. The dysphoria hit like a punch and he whimpered. With shaking hands, he ripped the hem of his shirt off and tied it around his head. He rose up into a wobbling crouch and moved over to the oars and began to row back in the direction they had come.  
They moored alongside the Revenge a half an hour later, Oscar sobbing and babbling incoherently, Morris still unconscious and Ryan shaking and silent.  
Pierre yelled for Kloppman to come help, and within moments it was all hands on deck, pulling the boys down into their cabins and throwing them dry clothes and attempting to warm them up. 

Ryan sat on his father's bed, staring at the eye patch in his hands. The hem of his shirt was still wrapped around his head, and he was continuously blinking and shaking his head although that would bring his eye back. The door creaked open and Pierre walked in.  
"Ryan." he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "Are you feeling okay?"  
"No." his voice sounded weak and strangled to his ears. He cringed.  
"Sleep in here, alright? I'll be up on deck if you need me." he rested his hand on his son's shoulder, and Ryan leaned into his touch for a moment before he strode out. The breeze from the door swinging shut was enough to extinguish the candle by the side of the bed. Ryan sat in the dark and shook.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a thing now... Newsies and pirates. Ryan is Kid Blink if you hadn't guessed that already.  
> There'll be another chapter soon (when school let up), and Mush will make an appearance.  
> Beta'd by BuboMuzziusFTW. Thank you!!
> 
> I'm on tumblr!  
> enchanting-toothy-grimace


End file.
